


Triple Metre

by secrettemplars (tricycleamoving)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Agender Akashi, Agender Character, Alternate Universe, Genderqueer Character, Genderqueer Furihata, Love at First Sight, Other, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 18:39:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4190727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricycleamoving/pseuds/secrettemplars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Father had taken one look at them before they left.</i><br/><i>“You look like you’re dressed for a funeral, Seijuurou,” he said.</i><br/><i>It didn’t sound like an insult.</i><br/> <br/>An akafuri addams family au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triple Metre

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be for the akafuri drabble weekend but here I am again, two days late. Ah well.
> 
> I've _really_ wanted to write this for a while, since the Addams family is a show that I've adored since young, and the moment I watched the movies I knew I was in love??? It was a bit hard to write this though, mostly because the Addams family is so cheesy and morbid and improbable, which is generally... not what I'm used to writing. I'm hoping this doesn't come off as too ooc or anything, but I tried my best so [shrugs]. I had a ridiculous amount of fun with it, that's for sure. 
> 
> Characterisation is per usual: Akashi is Agender (they/them), Furihata is Genderqueer (he/him). 
> 
> I'll have a dozen notes under the cut, maybe an announcement or two? Either way, enjoy!

The clock chimed twelve.

Across the table, their father cleared his throat. Akashi looked up, knife and fork still in hand as their lunch sat half-eaten on the table in front of them, a piece of meat en-route to their mouth. It was rare for father to strike a conversation over a well-cooked meal (unless it was about their performance at the workplace, they supposed), so Akashi gingerly placed their cutlery back onto their plate after taking one last bite, fork and knife crossed in the centre of the plate, and waited for their father to speak.

“Seijuurou,” their father said, calm and brusque, “Do you know of the Furihata family?”

“No,” Akashi replied, looking up to face their father, “I have not. Should I be familiar with the name?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to be,” their father said, “Though they are extremely wealthy, they remain a very reclusive and exclusive bunch. Most of the business world are either unaware of them, or actively avoid them.”

“But we are not like most of the business world,” Akashi stated (it’s a phrase they’ve burnt into their brain by now, branded into their heart), “Correct?”

“Of course,” their father sniffed, “Though they are a very… eccentric family, they are a great connection and resource to have. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to keep in touch with them, due to my busy schedule.”

(Translation: The Furihata family is a valuable asset, albeit unpleasant. A necessary chore for one as opportunistic as the Akashi family.)

“I assume that they have reached out to you again, then,” Akashi said.

“Correct,” their father replied, pausing to sip from his bone china teacup before continuing his sentence, “Yet again, I have been invited to one of their lavish parties.”

Akashi waited. They knew their father wasn’t finished- there was always a catch.

“Regrettably,” their father continued, “I happen to have another business meeting at the time, and will not be able to attend. Therefore, I will be sending you in my stead. It is a wonderful opportunity, Seijuurou, I hope you will not waste it.”

As expected. There is something behind their father’s impassive face, a glint in his eye reminiscent of a vulture staring at its prey that tells them that this is a test. Akashi Masaomi expects them to attend the party and make an impression. Akashi Masaomi expects them to charm the Furihata family and return with a business opportunity. Akashi Masaomi expects them to impress him.

“Thank you, father,” Akashi said, throat suddenly becoming far too dry for their liking, “I will do you proud.”

“See that you do,” their father replied.

Akashi waited for another thirty seconds of silence to pass. Then, they picked up their fork and knife again.

 

* * *

 

They arrived ten minutes early to the party.

It was the best course of action they’d eventually decided on: It would give the Furihatas the impression that he was a punctual sort of person, they would be able to have a brief but in-depth chat with the host family before most of the guests arrived (but would also ensure that they would not be trapped in a thirty minute conversation with them), and they would be able to get a good feel of the decor and the type of guests the family typically had over before it got too crowded.

Trying to find an outfit that would please their father, the Furihatas _and_ suit their own style was difficult at first (the Furihatas were old money: would they be expecting a grandiose outfit? Or would something a little simpler differentiate them from the crowd?), but eventually they settled on a simple black suit, white vest and white dress shirt, flourished with a red ascot tie. Sometimes, it was easier to stick to the basics. They did not want the Furihatas to remember them only for their outfit, after all.

(Father had taken one look at them before they left.

“You look like you’re dressed for a funeral, Seijuurou,” he said.

It didn’t sound like an insult.)

The butler seemed to scare their driver more than them. Perhaps they were too used to being around Murasakibara, for the butler surely rivaled the purple-haired glutton in size and strength, but they did not flinch the way their driver did when he opened the car door for them, nor did they squeak the way their driver did when he pointed in the direction of the parking lots and groaned. Although the butler only groaned at them as they led them to the main ballroom, Akashi still felt that he was a rather pleasant man, albeit one who was rather… deafening.

Akashi made a note of the overall decor of the mansion while following the butler inside. While it was very elegant and pleasing to the eye, they had to admit there was a certain… morbidity behind all of it. The mansion was old, _very_ old, and Akashi had to admit that at certain times, it really felt as if it was almost alive, dead ancestors living through the walls itself, something unknown lurking at every corner. It wasn’t a bad feeling, per se (at least one would never really be alone inside this mansion), and the decorations were definitely very intentional and artfully placed; tasteful but macabre, was really the only way to describe it.

Perhaps this was what their father had meant by ‘eccentric’.

Before long, a large gilded door appeared before them. The butler placed his hands on the finely painted wood, the heavy door creaking as they slid open. Akashi took in a deep breath as inconspicuously as they could, and stepped into the lavish ballroom.

The butler followed them in, watching as they looked around at the moderate amount of guests littered around the room before tapping on their shoulder.

“Yes?” Akashi asked.

He pointed at two impeccably dressed individuals nearby who were perhaps a little too close to each other than was appropriate for a formal party, before groaning again and making a motion with his hand. The taller of the two looked over shortly afterwards (it wasn’t as if the butler was very subtle or soft with his demeanor), before excitedly gesturing to his partner and rushing over.

“Welcome to the Furihata household!” The taller one bellowed out, eagerly shaking their hand as his companion smiled and looked at him as if he himself had hung the stars in the sky, “I don’t think we’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting you before?”

“Akashi Seijuurou,” Akashi replied, smiling politely at the two hosts of the party (though the smile on their face came easier than they originally expected), “My father, Akashi Masaomi-”

“Ah, you must be Masaomi’s boy then!” Mr. Furihata exclaimed, a broad smile on his face.

“Yes, I am his… child,” Akashi replied, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you both.”

“And what a wonderful child you are, it’s just a shame that we haven’t been able to meet earlier,” Mrs. Furihata said (both of their eyes had immediately softened in understanding after their statement. No one had looked at them like that in a very, very long time), before turning to address the butler, “Thank you so much for leading them in, Lurch. You’re the best a Furihata could ever ask for.”

Lurch groaned and tilted his head forward in reply, as if in thanks, before bowing to all three of them and shuffling off, closing the door behind him.

“We’ve been trying to invite your father over for _years_ , but you surely know more about his busy schedule than we do. Being a CEO must be such a taxing job,” Mr. Furihata boomed, before laughing heartily, “With how little we’ve been able to contact him, though, you’d almost think that he was avoiding us!”

 _Well, you’re not exactly wrong_ , Akashi couldn’t help but think.

“Of course not,” Akashi replied, choosing to leave out the fact that they’d never even heard of the Furihatas until a few days ago, “He’s just busy as usual.”

“You’d think the old man would be less busy the older he gets, but that’s the corporate world for you, I suppose! All work, work, work and no play at all,” Mr. Furihata said, shaking his head, “But oh, where are my manners? I’m Furihata Gentarou, and this is my lovely wife, Furihata Mutsuko, but feel free to call me Gentarou, my dear child!”

“And you can call me Mrs. Furihata or Mutsuko,” Mrs. Furihata added, “Whatever is more comfortable with you.”

“Thank you both,” Akashi replied (surprisingly, being called a child by these two despite being twenty-four didn’t sound as bad as they thought it would be), before gesturing to the ballroom, “I admit, I wasn’t expecting so… elaborate a party.”

“If there’s one thing you gotta know about the Furihata family, it’s that we either go big or go home,” Mr. Furihata said, nodding to himself.

“It’s just such a shame we couldn’t book the sword swallowers for tonight’s party,” Mrs. Furihata lamented, sighing in genuine sadness, “It was our aunt Tokiko’s favourite, too.”

“Never fear, my beloved Mutsuko!” Mr. Furihata suddenly exclaimed, the hand on his wife’s waist pulling her inappropriately close as he caressed her cheek, “Tonight, _I_ will do the sword swallowing!”

“Oh, Gentarou!” Mrs. Furihata gasped, before smiling brightly at her husband and leaning into his hand, “You’re too good to me.”

Akashi politely averted their eyes and waited for the (obviously still madly in love) older couple to break apart. They weren’t exactly counting the seconds as they ticked by, but they were pretty sure it took the two of them more than a minute to separate.

“So, I’m assuming your aunt Tokiko will be joining us today?” They asked, once their hosts had broken apart.

“Ah, she’s currently six feet under, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Furihata replied, smiling at them, “And reanimation is such a tricky feat. I’d attempt it, if I could, but I’m afraid I just don’t have all of her parts. I’d rather aunt Tokiko have her head about her if she were to attend her own birthday party.”

“She’d probably be able to appreciate my sword swallowing more if she had the eyes to see it,” Mr. Furihata said.

“… I see,” Akashi replied, pausing for a moment to… process the new information, “Though I suppose you could have her feel the sword when it’s in your mouth.”

“Huh, I’d never thought of that before,” Mr. Furihata remarked, before heartily patting them on the back, “Splendid, my dear! Beloved, we absolutely _must_ try this during next year’s party.”

“I’ll consult _all_ the necromancers I know, darling,” Mrs. Furihata replied, and though her face was calm, the wild gleam in her eyes were anything but, “Aunt Tokiko will get the very best.”

Behind them, the door creaked open again and they hear Lurch’s distinctive groan. Through the door steps out a middle aged woman dressed entirely in pink and… a much shorter individual entirely covered in hair (Akashi had to admit that they had a very nice hat on, though)?

Perhaps their father had been understating when he said the Furihatas were ‘eccentric’.

“Oh, the newlyweds are here!” Mrs. Furihata said, a hand resting on her husband’s shoulder, “We _must_ greet them and congratulate them on their marriage.”

“Of course, dear,” Mr Furihata replied, before turning to them with an apologetic smile on their face, “I wish we could stay and chat with you more, but I’m sure you know what it’s like to be a host, flitting around from guest to guest. Perhaps you and your father could come over for tea some other time? We have so much to catch up on.”

“I’ll make sure to pass on the message,” Akashi said, nodding at them. They were pretty sure that their message wouldn’t result in anything, unfortunately.

“We have snacks and drinks on the tables on the sides,” Mrs. Furihata said, quickly pointing out at the room as she and her husband slowly drifted off towards the other guests, “Dinner will be served later. This being a party, of course, we’ve cleared the middle for all our avid dancers, and later on, Gentarou will be performing there too. If you ever need anything, feel free to approach Gentarou and I, or call for Lurch- we’d be delighted to make you as comfortable as possible!”

Before they could even manage to thank the couple, the two of them floated away to the other end of the room, leaving Akashi to drift around the room, taking in the ridiculously grandiose and macabre decor. The tablecloths on the tables were black, decorated with golden candelabras, and was that an actual ram skull in the middle of the display?

The food, despite being decorated rather gruesomely, looked fresh and well-cooked, and regardless of their uncertainty about what the food actually _was_ , they picked up a small canapé in the shape of a baked eyeball and plopped it into their mouth. They chewed.

Huh.

It was delicious.

(Probably best not to ask what the ingredients were.)

Every bit of this party, from the hosts to the location to the food, was eccentric to the core (though they were a good sort of eccentric, Akashi had to admit). They could see why father had sent them here in the first place as a challenge, a way to test their resolve. If they were any other person, this party would’ve sent them running back to their father, the numerous mentions to witchcraft, necromancy and death enough to shake up any person.

Akashi Seijuurou, however, felt that they were doing a rather good job so far.

Grabbing a red glass of water, they slowly trotted alongside the long tables, casually plopping any appetising finger food into their mouth. They would stay for the entirety of the party, they decided. They would mingle with the other guests, try to find any enterprising businesspeople in the crowd, make more connections.

They’ll do their father proud.

 

* * *

 

It’s around halfway through the party when Akashi starts to feel… stuffy.

They’d chatted with most of the guests not busy dancing by now, and very quickly came to the realisation that most of the Furihatas’ guests were distant relatives of the family, or family friends. Basically, most of them were old money. The few they talked to who owned a business or worked in the corporate world were those who did it for leisure, not for a living (again: old money), so it had been rather tough to bridge the gap between them, one might say.

Many dressed in fine gowns and satin suits had approached them for a dance as well, but they’d politely declined. Their main focus was to make as many connections as possible during their time here, so dancing was out of the question. Plus, romance and attraction were things that occurred seldom and few for them anyway, and they felt no regret or remorse rejecting any advances. It helped that the guests here were very polite: a simple shake of the head were just met with an understanding nod, and the guest that had approached them would simply move on to the next person who caught their eye.

The sword swallowing was also… intriguing, to say the least. Akashi tried very hard not to think about the logistics of it too much.

In the middle of the room, Furihata Gentarou and Furihata Mutsuko danced, floating from corner to corner, completely enraptured in each other. Their eyes shone, as if they were drowning in each other, and rejoicing at that very fact. They danced with such an intensity and such a charged energy that anyone they came near could feel it, as if it were like static electricity prickling at the back of their necks. It was no coincidence that the couples who danced the hardest were the ones closest in proximity to the Furihatas.

Had father ever looked at mother in such a way before?

It was hard to imagine. They barely even remembered the last time father had cracked a genuine smile (and not one of those polite businessman smiles that Akashi had long learnt to imitate), much less look like mother was made of stardust and wonder, the only one in the room worth looking at.

 _Improper_ , father would say about the Furihatas’ current display, _Shameful._

It left a very unpleasant taste at the back of their throat.

Slowly striding towards the main doors, Akashi took one last look at the party, taking in the rambunctious guests, the eclectic decor, the feeling that they _belonged_ despite not being related to a single person in the crowd. It was a bit too much for them at the moment, being too used to empty halls and lonely rooms, sparsely decorated and too calculated in design.

Perhaps a walk would do them some good.

They’re staring up at the giant gilded door, wondering whether it would be disrespectful or impolite for them to wander off into the mansion on their own when they feel a gentle tap on their shoulder. Turning around, they came face to face with Mrs. Furihata.

“Problem, dear?” Mrs. Furihata asked.

“Ah, I was just feeling a little… stuffy,” Akashi replied, smiling politely at the host, “I was wondering if I would be able to get a breather outside.”

“Of course, my dear child! Whatever makes you comfortable,” Mrs. Furihata exclaimed, before pulling on a thick black rope hanging from the ceiling, “We have a lovely courtyard outside, perhaps a stroll out there might help? Oh, or I could try to find my youngest, he might be able to give you a tour of the mansion…”

“The courtyard outside sounds splendid, Mrs. Furihata,” Akashi said, “I think I just need to get some fresh air.”

The door suddenly creaked open, Lurch shuffling forward as he groaned.

“You rang?” Lurch bellowed.

“Ah, Lurch, please show our wonderful guest to our lovely courtyard,” Mrs. Furihata said, before turning back to them, “Just make sure you stick to the path, and you should find your way back to the house when you’re done.”

“Thank you,” Akashi replied. At this point, it felt like they had thanked the Furihatas a lot more in the past few hours than they had anyone else their entire week.

“Enjoy yourself, dear,” Mrs. Furihata said, before turning back to entertain another guest, though the gleam in her eye when she bade them goodbye suggested that she knew a lot more than she let on. Did she know something about the outside that they didn’t? Was she expecting them to do something outside? Or was it just yet another eccentric Furihata behaviour?

Lurch groaned once again, and Akashi came back to their senses, following the large man out of the ballroom.

* * *

 

The courtyard was silent and still, a complete contrast to the chaos inside.

Leaves rustled every now and then, trees swaying in the wind as a chilly breeze blew by, whistling in their ear. The path underneath their feet was marble, and shone underneath the faint moonlight. Most of the sky was obscured by grey clouds, but still a few rays of moonlight shone through, enough for them to make their way into the courtyard relatively unhindered.

The courtyard was so quiet that not even they dared to be loud, their footsteps making nary a sound as they walked forward.

It was then that the graves started to appear.

At first they were small, little semi-circles carved out of grey stone that popped up every now and then. Akashi had noticed them, but chose not to investigate- doing so would mean that they would have to stray from the path, and considering the family’s… quirks, it was best to heed Mrs. Furihata’s advice. Then, the stones became crosses became statues, until it was completely apparent that they were walking in a graveyard, both sides of the path littered in gravestones depicting the most gruesome of endings for its inhabitants.

They paused, and turned to look at the nearest gravestone (two people in a chariot, drawn by a horse).

 _Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc_ , thought Akashi, reading off the inscription on the gravestone and translating it in their mind, _We gladly feast on those who would subdue us._

Filing that little phrase at the back of their mind, they quickly moved on, walking down the path. Perhaps it was good that they’d already been walking so quietly- who knows what else might be lingering around here.

The wind whispered around them, almost growing from an incoherent whisper into a structured melody, and it takes them a minute to realise that the source of the melody came not from the wind, but from further down the path. From what they could see, the path curved to the left, into a place they cannot make out, and they could either choose to follow the path or turn back.

They couldn’t place it, but there was something to that faint melody, something indescribable that almost pulled them forward, and before they even knew it their feet were moving, taking one step after another. The melody grew louder, the only sound in the silence, resonating throughout the stillness of the night. Their footsteps remained quiet, and they went down, down, down the path, treading into the opening on the left.

It turned out that the path led into a small garden, blooming with flowers and trees and ivies crawling up walls.

There was a person sitting on a swing, their eyes closed as they sang out into the night.

Akashi stood there, at the very end of the path, as if frozen by some unknown magic. With the sparse moonlight hitting the singer’s brown hair, perfectly framing their pale, heart-shaped face, and the [black and white ruffled dress](http://36.media.tumblr.com/1a19298f731e930e3336d2739ededd00/tumblr_nf0f2gegUm1tdlzlbo1_500.jpg) hanging off their milky shoulders, they looked like a faerie of the night, like a forlorn lampad: a nymph of the underworld, lounging under the dreary sky.

When the song finished, the last few notes of that haunting melody fading out into the night, the singer’s eyes fluttered open, chocolate brown eyes turning to look directly into their own wine-red ones. Akashi knows they should do something, be it walking forward, or turning and running, but they can’t will their body to do anything, leaving them standing there in silence, looking at the singer looking back at them.

The singer looks as if they want to do something too, pink lips parting as though starting to speak, but nothing comes out except silence. They swallow, but the back of their throat feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton, their palms sweaty and their arms feeling like limp spaghetti.

“You-” Akashi managed to blurt out, after a little while, “You have a nice voice.”

“I, ah, um,” The singer replied, their grip on the ropes of the swing tightening as their eyes widen, “Thank you.”

“Do you mind if I, er, sat down?” Akashi asked, trying their best to gesture at the unoccupied swing next to them.

“Yes!” The singer blurts out, cheeks glowing at their outburst, “I mean, uh, yes. Go ahead.”

Akashi slowly walked forward, as if the singer might disappear if they moved too fast, too suddenly. Their legs are trembling slightly, they know, and they do their best to hide it, sitting on the empty swing before their legs can even attempt to give way. The ropes of the swing bite into their hand a little, but the temporary pain means little compared to being able to be closer to the other, their shoulders now only a few painful inches apart.

“Are… you one of mom’s guests?” The singer asked, shyly glancing over at them.

“It, uh, depends on who your mother is?” Akashi asked in reply, before internally cursing at themselves. What _happened_? Just an hour ago, they were conversing perfectly, exchanging quips with the other guests back in the ballroom, but now it seems they can’t even answer a simple question properly. Now, when it mattered the most, they couldn’t form one single suave sentence.

“My mom’s Furihata Mutsuko,” the singer said softly, “I’m Furihata Kouki, the youngest.”

“Oh,” Akashi replied, glancing over at Furihata, eyes lingering on the way the moonlight clung to his eyelashes, “My name’s Akashi Seijuurou. I was, uh, invited. To the party.”

 _Oh, I thought you were a faerie_ , is what Akashi did not say.

“Akashi Seijuurou…” Furihata said, as if testing the name out on the tip of his tongue, a puzzle to be unlocked, a flower to be bloomed, “That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you,” Akashi replied somewhat shakily, “You’re beautiful too- I mean, your name. That is. I meant that.”

 _I could write sonnets about you_ , is what Akashi _definitely_ did not say.

“A-ah, I, uh, t-thank you!” Furihata replied, a harsh pink glow starting to form on his cheeks as he rests a hand on his heart, a shaky smile blooming on his face, “What brings you to my garden, Akashi?”

“I needed a… breather from the party,” Akashi said, “It was a bit overwhelming.”

“Ah, I know how you feel!” Furihata replied, “Mom and dad always invite so many people over, it gets tiring _really_ fast. I can’t… attend any of their parties, really, there’s always too many people, too many pairs of eyes staring at me… it’s unnerving.”

“And you start feeling a little bad when you have to keep declining all those dance invitations,” Akashi said, a sympathetic smile on their face, “Right?”

“Yeah,” Furihata sighed, shoulders hunching, “I really wish I could say yes. I’ve always wanted to dance, but there are so many eyes in that room, staring at me, watching my every move… I wonder how mom and dad even do it.”

“They certainly are… very okay with voyeurism, I’d have to say,” Akashi remarked, wishing they could just reach out and hold that dainty hand, press their lips to the back of his palm and watch as his face becomes aglow with pink. Anything to wipe the sadness away from Furihata’s face.

“That’s one way to put it,” Furihata replied, lips quirking into a smile, “Though I think I’m used to it by now.”

They must really love each other a lot, then,” Akashi said, that unpleasant taste creeping back into their throat again, “That’s rare, nowadays.”

“It is, isn’t it,” Furihata replied, smiling before looking over at them, their smile faltering slowly, as if he saw something he didn’t like, “I’m glad, either… way…”

Suddenly, Furihata leaned in close, stretching out a hand to hover right over their cheek. Akashi could see no one else but Furihata, his eyes boring into theirs, his hand so heartbreakingly far away from their face. They could almost feel the heat radiating from that hand, and they longed to do something, to lean into that embrace, but they just sat there, mesmerised. There was something a bit odd about the way Furihata was looking at them, as if he were searching for something, but the Furihatas were all a bit odd anyway: Furihata was no exception.

Before long, Furihata pulled back, a squeak escaping his lips as he settled back into his seat. Akashi mourned the loss of that heat, that static electricity atmosphere that radiated between them.

“I-I’m so sorry!” He squeaked out, the hand that was hovering over their cheek clasping his heart, “I get, uhm, I get a little weird sometimes a-and if you felt uncomfortable or anything that really wasn’t my intention, I just thought I s-saw-”

“Furihata,” they murmured, reaching forward to brush a stray hair out of the other’s eyes, memorising the way he shakily exhaled, the way he looked at them, as if he wanted to do nothing more than close the distance between them, “It’s fine. I don’t mind at all.”

“Okay,” Furihata said, swallowing audibly, “Good. That’s- That’s good.”

It only occurred to Akashi at that moment that they should move their hand back. Acting like this was improper of them- they were only a guest at a party they never even wanted to attend in the first place. Such wants, such… thoughts were useless, serving no benefit to the Akashi household. Father would have their head, if he knew.

“What kind of dances do you like, Furihata?” They asked, tilting their head.

And yet.

“Oh, I like quite a few! The Charleston, the Foxtrot, the Tango,” Furihata listed, smile bright enough to light up his surroundings, “But my favourite would be the Slow Waltz.”

And _yet_.

“Then, if I may be so bold,” Akashi said, getting up from the swing and moving to stand in front of Furihata, extending a hand forward, “May I have this Waltz?”

Perhaps it was the way he gasped out a “yes”, or perhaps it was the way his hand fit so neatly in theirs, both of their palms shaking as they led him out to the middle of the garden, still shaking as they rested their other palm on Furihata’s slim waist, while his other hand rested on their shoulder, warmth seeping through their blazer and onto their skin. Perhaps it was the way Furihata almost fell during their first attempt, his legs shaking so hard they could hear his heels clacking. Perhaps it was just all of Furihata himself, the little things and the big things all combined into one extraordinary person.

For a moment they could forget that they were Akashi Seijuurou, heir to a company they aren’t even sure they want, child of a father they aren’t even sure cares for them. For a moment, they could be Seijuurou instead, lost in the moment, lost in Furihata, lost in something almost like love.

They danced from corner to corner of the garden, moving to the beat of a three-four triple time, one-two-three, one-two-three. Furihata’s flowing dress moved to the beat with them, the ombre ruffles almost floating in the gentle breeze, as if he really were part of the fae, or a deity come to life. The smile on Furihata’s face was bright and gentle, reminiscent of the stars twinkling softly in the sky, and they couldn’t help but smile back. They smiled until their cheeks started to ache, and then they smiled some more, too caught up in the way Furihata tenderly held their hand to care.

They waltzed until their feet became sore, and even then they did not stop. Instead, they slowed down the tempo, their large steps becoming smaller ones, their slow waltz gradually evolving into a simple sway. The tempo was sedate and lingering, and before long they were only moving from side to side, both of their hands resting on Furihata’s waist while his arms were wrapped around their neck, swaying back and forth to the beat.

Like this, they were notably closer, Furihata burying his head into the curve of their neck, letting out a dreamy sigh that Akashi could feel against their skin. If they got any closer, they would be clinging to each other, though at this point they already might be anyway. Akashi got the feeling that they both didn’t want to stop dancing, because stopping would mean that it was over, and when it was over they would have to let go. So they danced on with sore feet, holding on to each other for dear life.

“Furihata?” Akashi asked, turning to nose at the curve of Furihata’s neck, exhaling shakily when they heard the soft whine the other had let slip in response.

“Yeah?” Furihata breathed out, voice airy and demure.

“Earlier on, when I first got here,” Akashi said, “What were you singing?”

“Oh, just an old rain spell mom taught me,” Furihata replied, “It… It only works half of the time, but the garden needed water.”

“French, was it?” Akashi said, eyes sliding shut as Furihata nuzzled into their neck, “I’ve had lessons before, but it sounded a little different.”

“Mm,” Furihata replied, voice far away, as if he too were too distracted, too engrossed in the other to give the reply his full attention, “Mom says it’s middle French… sixteenth century, I think? Passed down from my grandma’s side.”

It was weird how time never seemed to work around Furihata, as if it too were too enthralled, too captivated by him to function properly. Akashi didn’t know how long they’ve been dancing, how much time they’ve spent in this garden: all they knew was that it wasn’t enough. With Furihata so close, his hair brushing against their neck, the soft exhale of his breath caressing their skin, they could only wish that this moment could last forever, that they would never have to let go.

However, even time had its limits, and soon the two of them found themselves coming to a halt, standing still in the middle of the garden. Even though they had only simply been swaying for the past… forever, Akashi could still feel their heart pumping right out of their chest, an allegro vivace in two-four time signature. Furihata started to pull back slightly, hands sliding back until he was caressing their cheeks, his face only one excruciating inch away from theirs.

It would be so easy.

It would be so easy to just lean forward, to press their lips to his and close that agonising distance between them. Yet, there was beauty in waiting too, in the moment just _before_ : the pre-kiss lull, the calm before the storm. Furihata’s hands were warm against their skin, their brown eyes shining with warmth and with want, looking at them with a sort of feverish desperation, as if they were some sort of celestial being, born out of stardust and marble.

( _What an absurd idea_ , Akashi thought, _That description should belong to you, not me._ )

And then Furihata was leaning in, closer and closer and _closer_ -

 _Plip_.

The both of them looked up, as beads of water started to trickle down from the heavens, cool droplets landing on their faces, decorating their skin and clothes with water stains.

“I guess your spell worked,” Akashi breathed out, looking back down at Furihata.

“Yeah,” Furihata replied, eyes lowering to look at their lips, his hands still on their cheeks, trembling, “We should… We should head back inside.”

Neither of them moved nary a step.

Furihata leaned in again, and pressed his lips to theirs.

It was only a gentle kiss, but it was enough to make their knees go weak, for their hands to tremble as they clung to his waist, Furihata’s lips soft and warm against theirs. The kiss felt like a gentle sigh and a lightning storm all at once, and even the rain starting to pour down on them couldn’t tear them apart.

When they finally tore themselves away, they were drenched. Furihata’s chiffon dress clung to his body, his chestnut hair sticking to his face. Their own suit was soaked too, their vest and blazer wet and sticking to their skin, but in the moment all they could see was the pink of Furihata’s cheeks and the pink of his lips, all they could hear was the soft, longing whimper that left his lips after their separation, and all they could feel was the warmth of Furihata under their hands.

“We should- ” Akashi said, their voice an octave lower and softer than before, “We really should head back inside now.”

“Yeah, we should,” Furihata whispered in reply, wet hands still lingering on their cheeks, sounding like he’d been punched in the gut, like their kiss had stolen his breath from him.

Akashi pressed their lips to Furihata’s again, tender and soft, relishing in the surprised yet delighted noise Furihata made in response. Furihata pressed even closer, their chests touching as his lips molded against theirs, his hands moving to wind in their wet hair.

When they pulled apart, Furihata chased their lips with half lidded eyes, giving them one last lingering peck on their lips before stepping back, his dress dragging across the muddy ground, he himself soaked to the bone.

They hastily unbuttoned their blazer, placing it over Furihata’s bare shoulders, before quietly taking his hand, their fingers intertwining. Furihata beamed at him with such warmth Akashi temporarily forgets that it’s raining, before drawing the jacket closer to his body bashfully. He starts to walk forward, leading Akashi back onto the path and out of the garden, his leisurely stroll turning into a jog into a run. Akashi ran with him back to the mansion, their fingers linked together the entire time.

* * *

 

Once the two of them had made it back inside, Furihata shut the door behind him with a bang, leaning against it and panting heavily. He turned to Akashi, who was standing right next to him, giving them an exhausted smile.

“We made it,” Furihata said, relieved.

“Thank goodness,” Akashi replied, squeezing Furihata’s hand, before looking down at the carpeted floor beneath their feet, muddy and wet, “We’re making quite the mess, though.”

“Pft, it’s okay,” Furihata said, the white ombre ruffles at the end of his dress now caked with mud, a puddle of water forming underneath him, “We’ve seen worse.”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Akashi quipped, their own shoes caked with mud, the sleeves of their dress shirt wet and clinging to their arms.

“It’s probably better you don’t,” Furihata replied, quickly leaning over to cheekily peck them on the cheek, “Wouldn’t want to scare you away now, would we?”

“I don’t know, I think I can handle a little scariness,” Akashi said, smiling as they lifted their entwined hands and placed the gentlest of kisses on the back of his palm.

“That’s always good to hear,” Furihata said, smiling shyly back at them, cheeks glowing that beautiful shade of pink again.

It was slightly ridiculous how they’d only known Furihata Kouki for a few hours at most, and yet they were reduced to behaving like a lovestruck teenager, as if the very presence of the other was already enough to take their breath away, as if they were thirteen again, with sweaty palms and greasy hair and the feeling that they might not be able to live without the other. It was utterly embarrassing. It was utterly _exhilarating_.

Akashi wouldn’t give it up for the world.

“Kouki? Kouki, where are you?” Called a voice from afar, and before long Mrs. Furihata came striding down the hallway, her long black stilettos clicking despite the carpets on the floor, “The party ended ten minutes ago, you should- Oh!”

Belatedly, Akashi realised that they were still holding Furihata’s hand, that their blazer was still resting on Furihata’s shoulders. They wondered if Mrs. Furihata was going to murder them (god knows father would’ve, if they’d disappeared for half the party and turned up ten minutes after it ended with the son of another guest, muddy and soaked and in love).

“Ah, you’re here too, my dear!” Mrs. Furihata said, a gentle but amused smile blooming on her face, “I trust you had a delightful stroll in the gardens.”

“Yes, er, the very best, Mrs. Furihata,” Akashi replied, Furihata’s hand still warm in theirs. They couldn’t stop their lips from quirking upwards when Furihata’s hand gently squeezed theirs, though, and Akashi prayed that Mrs. Furihata didn’t notice it.

“Oh dear, you’re soaked! While I’m sure our remaining guests would be thrilled if you joined them like this, I remember Masaomi being quite the stickler for rules. He always was _such_ a downer,” Mrs. Furihata mused, “I’ll get Lurch to fetch some fresh towels. Kouki, would you be a dear and escort them to one of our guest bathrooms?”

“Ah, I’ll bring them to the one on the second floor? The one next to… y’know,” Furihata replied, “Is that okay?”

“Splendid! I’ll get Lurch on it immediately,” Mrs. Furihata said, before turning to them, “Come back to the ballroom when you’re ready, dear. Gentarou and I will see you off.”

Before they could even give their thanks, Mrs. Furihata was walking off again, and Furihata was tugging them away in the other direction, towards a flight of wooden stairs.

“What’s next to the bathroom on the second floor?” Akashi asked, curious.

“Oh, nothing much,” Furihata replied, looking back at them with a playful glint in his eyes, “Just my room.”

* * *

 

“So,” His mom casually remarked as they watched Akashi’s car drive out the mansion gates, “I’m thinking a Spring wedding would suit you best? Preferably during one of those dreary spring showers?”

“ _Mom_ ,” Furihata whined, hiding his face behind his hands, “We _just_ met!”

“So?” His mom replied, elegantly raising an eyebrow, “Your father proposed to me the very night we met, you know.”

“ _Still_ ,” Furihata said.

“And I see they let you keep their blazer, too,” His mom said, that smile full of motherly-teasing emerging on her face again, “Like a token of their affection.”

“… I asked if I could keep it,” Furihata bashfully mumbled out, hands moving to pull the blazer still resting on their shoulders close, “They didn’t even _hesitate_.”

“I suppose we’d better keep inviting their family to our parties, then,” his mom mused, “Hmm, Your father _did_ want to have a swamp party sometime soon. Perhaps it could be arranged.”

“Thanks, mom,” Furihata said, before shyly looking over, “I also… invited them to our séance next week?”

“Oh, what a wonderful opportunity to introduce them to your cousin Tomo,” his mom replied, before winking slyly at him, “We’ve got to get them used to their in-laws early, of course.”

“ _Mom_ ,” Furihata whined again, before flushing pink as he softly whispered, “… please do.”

They fell into silence.

“Kouki, my dear,” his mom said, “At this rate, you’d be married by the end of the month.”

Somehow, that didn’t sound so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo the big announcement is that _Aesthetically Okay_ will be put on hiatus for a bit. I'm kinda at the point where I have a beginning, an end, and nothing else? Since that was my first fic with Ace!Akashi and I had such grand plans for it in my head, I kinda... don't want to be making it up as I go, so I'm probably gonna have to take some time and figure out what I want to do with it before I start work on it again.
> 
> The second big announcement is that I'm organising a **Furiaka Week** event on tumblr. Of course I don't have much of the deets planned out yet, but I do have a snazzy [tumblr page](http://furiakaweek.tumblr.com) up for it! If any of y'all are interested, save the date!
> 
> Notes:  
> 1\. Haha happy fathers' day masaomi ur still a piece of shit (coming from a business family really helps with writing him lmao... thanks fam)
> 
> 2\. Both Gentarou and Mutsuko are based off Gomez and Morticia Addams, respectively, except Gentarou is more of a giant puppy and Mutsuko is more flustered than their Addams counterparts. Furihata's bro isn't mentioned here, but he's off mucking about in the catacombs of Paris so he couldn't make it to the party
> 
> 3\. Things I have actually googled for this fic: sword swallowing. goth tables. baked eyeballs. french rain spells.
> 
> 4\. Writing this whole thing was sorta weird cuz I... generally don't subscribe to the idea of love at first sight? But I mean Gomez proposed to Morticia literally the night he met her, it's an Addams family au, so I gave it my best shot.
> 
> 5\. _Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc_ : This is actually dog-latin/fake latin lmao. Still sounds cool af tho.
> 
> 6\. The [dress](http://36.media.tumblr.com/1a19298f731e930e3336d2739ededd00/tumblr_nf0f2gegUm1tdlzlbo1_500.jpg) Furihata's wearing is from Alexander McQueen's 2011 Spring collection. I personally call it the Ophelia dress in my mind for... reasons... but yes. It's an a+++ dress. Good job Alexander McQueen.
> 
> 7\. " _their palms sweaty and their arms feeling like limp spaghetti_ ": yes i made a palms sweaty, arms spaghetti joke i love it
> 
> 8\. Since the Addams family are a really... improbable family (like seriously they find electric chairs fun), I've basically given all of them superpowers or some shit? It's pretty hard to injure the entire family, Furihata has witch blood from his mom's side of the family (and is a little bit of an empath), Mutsuko can prooobably teleport, etc etc.
> 
> so yep. that's kinda about it. 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment or a kudos if you liked it!


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